The Stalking of Louise Copperfield

by Robert W Fisk

  The Planning Committee shuffled papers and went on to further business, leaving the issue of developing Huatere Valley for the full Council to deal with.

  When he got home later that night, Errol Stevenson made a phone call to Stuart Larcombe, the developer of the proposed Huatere Valley project.

  “So it didn’t go through, Errol? Am I hearing you right? Or have you taken my money under false pretenses?” asked Larcombe.

  “Well, Stuart, it went through to Council who have the final say, but the recommendation to adopt was not successful,” Stevenson replied.

  “Who is the problem?” asked Larcombe.

  “Two people will definitely speak against it,” said Stevenson.

  “Give me names,” said Larcombe.

  “The ex-cop, Rivers and the old school principal, Hamilton. He wants to go to the papers.”

  Stevenson was pleased to hand the problem on. He had done what he had been paid to do, to get the proposal before the full Council, although it would have been better if there had been a positive recommendation. He knew that he and Charles had the numbers to push the deal through a full Council meeting, as long as there was no adverse publicity in the meantime.

  There was a big rugby game on the Saturday, six days before the full Council meeting had to make its final decision. People came from all over the Province and all over New Zealand because the match was a Ranfurly Shield Challenge being made by the Wahanui team. Although people complained that the season now started in February while cricket was still being played and continued into November they still turned up in droves to see the game. Although it was a night time game beginning at seven thirty, it was daylight until the end of the game at nine fifteen. Because it was the final game for the year, the Shield would be held by the winners until the Ranfurly Shield matches re-commenced in six months in next July.

  The Wahanui team won and there was great celebration. Joe Hamilton never missed a home game; he had a season ticket and his own seat. He was a local identity who would stand and raise his arms during a game to get the local crowd to roar.

  He usually went to the Star and Garter after a game where he would have two or three beers before walking home. His worries over Council procedures forgotten for the moment, Joe declared that this was the best game he had ever seen.

  His wife had died some ten years before, leaving Joe a widower. He got by on his own without needing help or a live-in companion. It was dark by the time Joe left the pub, around ten fifteen, but he never made it home. His body was found in the toilets by the park where school children had been practising at the cricket nets.

  Joe had been brutally beaten. Sprayed in red paint on the wall above the stainless steel hand basins were the words, ‘Death to hommos’.

  Joe’s death was investigated by the police but other than death by murder after being mistaken as a homosexual by a person or persons unknown, there was no conclusion to the case.

  On the night of the murder, before the newspaper was printed for the morning edition, a call was received by the Duty Editor.

  “Mr Mainwaring, I am Joseph Hamilton’s brother in law. Joe has been murdered. I helped him with an article on irregularities in Wahanui Council procedures. May I suggest we kill that article? I felt it was flawed through lack of direct evidence. Just one man’s opinion. I don’t want Joe’s memory tainted and the family does not want an uproar.”

  Damian Mainwaring had been in two minds about letting the story run. Joe Hamilton was a local identity and people enjoyed his often salty comments but this article depended on Joe’s reputation as a plain speaker and not much direct evidence. Dead, he could not defend his opinion.

  “I’ll look at doing that. Thank you Mr ... ”

  The phone was dead. Mainwaring brought up the article written by Joe. It was featured on page 3, with a leader on corporate integrity. Better to drop it, which meant killing both. The leader was orphaned without Joe’s claims of Secret Squirrel procedures. The Chief Sub-editor was not going to be happy, but he could write Joe’s obit instead.

  When the full Council met, the Huatere Valley Housing Proposal was passed with one abstention, that of Stan Rivers.

  THE PARTY

  where the story begins.

  CHAPTER 4.

  Stuart Larcombe gave Nigel Jones a budget to organise the party to celebrate receiving building approvals for the new housing project and the new supermarket. For a party of business associates, it was a generous budget but with strings attached; there had to be young women and there had to be something special to liven up the party. Nigel was an excellent organiser but he was worried about Stuart’s ‘something special’ by which he assumed Larcombe meant recreational drugs. Although perfectly legal, these were expensive and could be risky.

  Nigel was the Chief Town Planner, a neat and careful man who worried that the use of any kind of drugs at a party could invite inquiry that might expose some business arrangements that were better kept out of public view. Nigel had no difficulty sourcing recreational drugs because there was a shop that sold ‘Adult and Novelty Products’ at the far end of a side street in Wahanui.

  “Make your party go with a bang,” said the scruffy young salesman behind the counter. “You know, wham, bang, thank you ma’am.”

  Nigel thought that this was perhaps what Stuart Larcombe had in mind. The scruffy young man behind the counter had long dark hair and a pasty face with nascent pimples. He seemed to be sleep deprived and spoke so softly that Nigel had to struggle to hear him.

  “I’m Jason, by the way. Private party or do you want some female company?” asked the young attendant.

  “Mainly married couples, but there will be several singles,” Nigel replied.

  “How many people all together?” asked the shop assistant.

  “Probably about sixty,” Nigel replied.

  “I’ll get you six young men and six young women, then,” said the shop assistant. “Students. They party for free if you supply.”

  Nigel did not understand what he had to supply but he passed a fifty dollar note across the counter. Jason slipped it into the pocket of his jeans. Overall, the bill for the recreational drugs was quite reasonable, even when he added on the fifty he had given to Jason for making arrangements to have the young people. Nigel cut the total of social mixers down to six, three of each sex, and gave his phone number for them to get the details.

  Then he had to get the alcohol. Nigel was not a drinker. A small, neat careful man, he was moderate in all things, seldom swearing, and never using the awful F word, which he thought demeaned women.

  Because he exercised regularly and did not smoke, Nigel looked younger than his thirty nine years. His partner was Charlotte. She was known from school as Charlotte the Harlot, which was how she often introduced herself. He dodged the question of marriage because when the fancy took her she would live up to her nickname. Nigel was straight-laced and chose to ignore her affairs, leaving the question of having children and marriage up in the air. Nigel did his best to head off any man who fancied his chances, but Nigel could not be with Charlotte all the time.

  CHAPTER 5.

  The party began at nightfall, around nine thirty in a New Zealand summer. It was held in Stuart Larcombe’s house, a large two storey building in Cadiz, a swanky area of town. Stuart had cleaners in and hired extra furniture. Being currently unmarried, he really only used a bedroom upstairs, one of the three bathrooms, the downstairs sunroom, the lounge, dining room and kitchen. The cleaners were happy to re-organise the house for him so it was less of a bachelor barn.

  Frank had drunk a lot at the party but not as much as he pretended. When Larcombe had made his bet, Frank had felt obliged to accept the challenge. He had been determined to keep an eye on Larcombe and Louise and step in if things went too far.

  Frank was a short distance from his wife and his friend. He was keeping Louise under observation. He pretended to be drinking heavily so that if things got tacky he could ask Louise to drive him
home because he was too drunk to drive. He had the situation covered.

  Frank watched Louise and Stuart sitting on a couch. Stuart was making his play but Louise was having none of it. There was no response from Louise. As long as Frank kept an eye on Louise, it would be all right. If Larcombe did look like winning the bet, Frank could step in and stop things going any further, and forfeit the bet. Although times were tough she was worth a lot more than a thousand lousy dollars. He had given no thought to Stuart and how he might waylay Frank if need be.

  A guy came over from the bar, a big man, older but still very fit. He had a glass of Coke for Louise.

  “Nigel sent this over from the bar,” he heard. Stuart took the glass from the man and placed it on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Frank waited for Stuart to spike the drink but he didn’t. It sat on the table in front of Louise, who took sips from the glass every now and then. Stuart waved to someone who was dancing.

  Then a young woman said in Frank’s ear, “Let’s find somewhere quiet. The music’s too loud here.”

  Frank looked at his friend with his arm over his wife while she sipped her drink. Nothing was going to happen. Louise had resisted Stuart’s every move, including removing his hand that had wandered to her breast. ‘Too upright and too uptight’.

  “Come on,” said the young woman. “I’m Trudi. I can see you’re ready for some fun.”

  She led him out to a sunroom. As they went in, she pulled the door latch across, and pushed the top door sliding bolts into their keepers. No-one could come in. Frank forgot he was looking after his wife.

  Stuart had paid Trudi the student to keep Frank occupied, saying he wanted to give a friend a special treat. Trudi said nothing about Stuart’s two hundred and fifty dollars.

  “I’m a student with a big loan,” she said to Frank. “If I’m kind to you, will you be kind to me?”

  Later, adding up her earnings, she counted free drink, free food, two hundred and fifty for being a hostess, which was meant to include sex with at least two people, plus five hundred in total from Stuart and Frank, the two men with whom she had had sex. Not bad for one night’s work.

  CHAPTER 6.

  Nigel worried about protecting people. It was part of his nature, like stopping his car to let old ladies cross the road. He worried especially about Louise because she was so innocent. He was a little younger than Louise, and at school as a small teenager she often protected him from bullies. He treated her like the big sister he had left behind in Wales when his mother and father emigrated. His mother hated New Zealand. She was homesick and could only see the faults in her new country. When Nigel was at University and off their hands they went back to Wales, intending to return but they never did.

  Nigel always looked out for Louise but it was really up to Frank Copperfield to look out for his wife. Frank had got wasted very early in the evening and had gone into the sunroom to sleep it off. Nigel wondered if he had mixed recreational drugs with the alcohol he had consumed.

  Even though she was partying tonight and was not like her normal self, Nigel liked Louise Copperfield’s quiet nature. If life had panned out differently he might have married her instead of partnering Charlotte. Nigel felt protective towards Louise, worrying that Stuart Larcombe might make a move on her while Frank was in the sunroom sleeping off the booze. He pretended he had not seen the young student, Trudi, wasn’t it? who had gone into the room with Frank. No worries; he was probably too drunk to do much anyway.

  Nigel kept an eye on Louise as she danced with various partners, but not with the paid guests. Her radar seemed to be working well so perhaps he should not worry about her.

  Then Nigel’s heart sank as he saw Larcombe make a move on Louise. Stuart Larcombe sat down on a sofa beside Louise, who was taking a rest from her vigorous dancing. Nigel walked over to the couch and stood in front of the pair, moving his position so he was facing Louise in the corner of the couch rather than Stuart, who had his arm around Louise’s shoulders.

  “Hello Louise,” said Nigel. “Great party. Are you having fun tonight?”

  “It’s a lovely party,” said Louise.

  Stuart Larcombe moved his other arm across Louise and kissed her lightly on the cheek so that Nigel lost eye contact with Louise. When Nigel stood his ground, Larcombe rolled back so that he could speak to Nigel.

  “Nigel, can I send you out for more supplies? You didn’t order enough and we’ll run out if you don’t get more before the pubs close,” he said.

  “Should be plenty, Stuart,” said Nigel. “I ordered heaps.”

  “Just do it, Nige,” said Larcombe in a tight voice. “Louise, what can I get you?”

  “Coca Cola would be nice,” said Louise.

  “Before you go, Nige, get Louise a Coke, would you? She needs something to liven her up.” Larcombe gave a knowing grin, a leer that Louise didn’t see but that would haunt Nigel for a long time.

  Nigel knew what ‘liven her up’ meant. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. He was the one who had bought the recreational drugs for the party.

  ‘What the hell is Frank thinking about? It’s his job to look after his wife,’ he thought. “Stuart,” he began, prepared to argue the toss and make Larcombe change his mind about Louise but then he lost his nerve. “I’ll get a Coke.”

  Nigel had to wait for others to be served before he was able to order the Coca Cola. As he threaded his way back through dancers, he was jostled and spilled the drink. He went back and got another.

  “I’ll take it over if you like,” said a man Nigel knew as Bannister, a teacher at the High School. “I can push harder than you.”

  “That lady on the sofa,” said Nigel.

  “I know Louise personally,” said Bannister.

  Bannister was tall and well built, tall enough to see over the crowd; tall enough for people to make way for him. He seemed a very good fellow so Nigel gave him the Coke.

  Nigel left the bar trying not to think about what Stuart might put in the Coke when it was delivered. He saw Jason, who was running the bar, wave him over.

  “Nigel,” he said. “I’m on my own here. Can you round up some help, please?”

  “Jason, where are the helpers I paid for?” asked Nigel.

  “Doing their thing with guests,” said the bar tender. “You should have gotten more help.”

  The Americanism irritated Nigel. Why did the young copy the worst from television?

  Nigel found a young woman sitting on her own holding what looked like a bottle of ginger beer. She looked angry, as if she had been rowing with someone. She was stone cold sober and had eyes that focused.

  “Busy?” he asked. “I need someone to help out at the bar.”

  “Pay me?”

  “Yes. Going rates. I’m Nigel Jones, organizer. Fifty bucks an hour?”

  “Okay,” she said as she took the two hundred Nigel held out. “I’m Lesley, with an e and a y.”

  “Look out for trouble, don’t serve drunks, blow the whistle if you need help,” said Nigel as he walked her over to the bar. “Jason, Lesley here will help out. Would you show her what to do?”

  As Nigel left the bar to get the extra drink he felt they did not need, he saw Larcombe waving him over.

  “Nigel, I need your help,” said Larcombe. “Louise needs to lie down. Can you take her up to my room and make her comfortable? I don’t know what’s happened, but she’s sort of collapsed. Before you go, would you help me get her upstairs where she can rest?”

  “I’ll get an ambulance,” said Nigel.

  “Nah. There’s nothing really wrong with her; just exhausted. If she isn’t right in an hour, I’ll take her to A and E.”

  Nigel helped Louise across the room. Frank was nowhere to be seen. Louise had to climb the stairs one tread at a time, with Nigel’s arm around her to steady her.

  Looking down from the stairs Nigel could see his wife lying next to a young man behind a large sofa, with her blouse open and her breasts exposed. Charl
otte was kissing him and seemed to have her hand inside his trouser fly.

  Nigel gently set Louise down on the edge of the bed and then peeled back the top cover of the bed. Louise looked lovely. She was wearing a soft blue dress that suited her blue eyes and black curly hair. She was soft and girlish despite being only a little older than Nigel. Nigel felt a glow of feeling wash over his body.

  Nigel reached down and took her shoes off. Then he calmly undressed her, starting with her skirt and then her blouse but leaving her slip to cover her bra and her panties.

  “Louise, go to sleep now. You’ll be safe here. I’ll find Frank and send him to you.”

  Frank was a lucky man but a stupid man. Nigel sat with Louise. She slept soundly, almost a dead sleep. Nigel listened to Louise’s slow shallow breathing to constantly check that she was all right. After some time Stuart knocked gently on the door and entered his own bedroom.

  “Just too much exertion, I think. Thanks for looking after her. You go back down,” said Stuart. “See if you can find Frank. I’ll look after her now while you get the extra booze. Never seen so much drunk in such a short time.”

  Nigel left the room, closing the door behind him. His mind was full of dread but he did not have the courage to confront Larcombe, if in fact Larcombe intended to do anything. Like Hamlet and so many others faced with an insoluble situation, Nigel did not know whether to tackle the issue head on, let things follow their course, or run away from an issue that was not his.

  ‘Best let sleeping dogs lie,’ he thought.

  As Nigel slowly went down the stairs he thought, ‘With a friend like me, who needs enemies?’

  He looked over the stair rail and saw behind the couch Charlotte on her hands and knees being ridden from behind. Her hair hung over her face and her breasts jerked and swung with every thrust.